


Take The Pain Away

by killjoy_assbutt



Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [9]
Category: August Walker - Fandom, Henry Cavill - Fandom, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: But It's Fluffy, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Blood, and of fight, and of sex, august walker spoiling his little angel, periods suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoy_assbutt/pseuds/killjoy_assbutt
Summary: Anon requested: Could you do 11 (“Oh god, you’re bleeding”) & 20 (“I could just use a hug”) from hurt/comfort with August and a painful period?Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night plagued by some vicious period cramps. August takes care of it. Basically just some delayed aftercare. Pure fluff.Pairing: August Walker x 2nd pers reader (my first shot at writing this perspective)Warnings: mentions of past sexual intercourse, blood, wounds, daddy!kink, August being AugustUnbeta'd, all typos are mineIf you liked it , likes and comment are always welcome💕
Relationships: August Walker/Reader, August Walker/You
Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051982
Kudos: 14





	Take The Pain Away

You wake up with a gasp, a sharp pain ripping through your lower abdomen before it concentrated on one spot, feeling like a black hole that’s eating you from inside. In your drowsy and still kinda blissed out state, your first thought is that the pains roots from August being a little rougher than usual last night.

Not that you blame him. He had come home from a job that had gone incredibly wrong, leaving him with a bullet to the leg and a lecture from his boss. And you ware there for him, to let him take the anger out on you; you always are. So, last night when he came home, he was pissed beyond measure. Your open, welcoming arms had been pinned behind your back before you knew it, the expensive lace lingerie he had gifted you with just two weeks prior, torn to baby pink shreds that still littered the kitchenfloor.

In an attempt to soothe your pain, you shift on top of him, throwing your leg over his to lie completely on his warm chest. He groans slightly in pain, opening his eyes. Oh no, you must have grazed his wound.

“’m sorry, daddy,” you slur, shifting back to lie beside him, only to brush against his wound for a second time, making him hiss slightly.

“I’m okay, angel,” he groans.

Worried nonetheless, you pull the sheets off, finding the bandage around his thigh dark in the dim light that filtered through the heavy curtains. With a click, the lamp on the bedside table is switched on, illuminating our bedroom in a soft golden glow. Still, you squint at the sudden brightness, as does August. Once adjusted to the light, your eyes land on the bandage, stained completely with bright crimson blood.

“Oh god!” you gasp at the sight, “Daddy, you’re bleeding!”

At that, he sits up to inspect the damage himself. But his eyes don’t fall on his lag, but rather the stained bedsheets. Lastly, his eyes settle to the spot between your legs, brows knitting together, and you’re about to tilt your head quizzingly, when he speaks up.

“No, angel, it’s you,” he mumbles, voice rough from sleep and roaring like an animal just earlier tonight.

“Wha-?” your eyes dart downwards, only to find the insides of your thighs bloody. “Ah!” another wave of cramps rolls through you and you curl up on the bed, whimpering. August has his arms around you in a blink, carrying you over to the bathroom while whispering comforting words into your ear.

He sets you down on the toilet and hands you a pack of tampons, turning his back to give you some privacy while you do what you need to do, as he starts the tab of warm water, letting the tub fill steaming.

“Sorry about the sheets,” you whisper, unsure if he’s still irritated from yesterday. He turns, giving you a small smile.

“They needed to be changed anyway, babygirl. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Stepping up to you, he puts the tampons back into the cabinet, retrieving a lush, pink bathbomb instead. “Just let daddy take care of you.”

You nod eagerly, despite the early morning hours and go to sit on the tub’s edge, watching as he lowered the crumbling ball into the water, the sweet scent of vanilla filling the air as the water tints cherryblossom-pink, the bathbomb sizzling, creating bubbles.

“Alright, let’s get you in there, kitten,” August chimes as he shuts off the water. He lifts you up in his arms again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pepper his stubbled cheek in small, innocent kisses, the coarse hair tickling against your lips.

A sigh escapes your lungs when he slowly submerges you in the tub, the hot water soothing the cramps almost instantly.

“Do you need anything else, kitten?” August’s velvety mumble calls you back to reality.

“Can you join, daddy?” you pout, fluttering your lashes.

“Babygirl,” he sighs, crouching down next to the tub, supressing a wince as he is reminded of the bullet, “You know I can’t. I’ll make it up to you, though.”

You tilt your head, interest piqued. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

With these words, he leaves you alone for a moment, returning with soft, cotton panties and one of his t-shirts. He himself is dressed back in boxers, the stained bandage changed. Putting the new clothes down, he sits back down by the tub, pulling your arm out of the water, massaging the soreness out of them.

“Wanted to do this anyway, but I guess we were both too tired,” he mutters, kneading up your arm to your shoulder. He keeps massaging your strained limbs, one after the other. Once he’s done, he lifts you out of the tub wordlessly, pulls the drain and helps you dry off.

As soon as your body leaves to warm water, the cramps return with all their might, making you double over, whimpering. Carefully, August gets you dressed and carries you back to bed. He stands in front of it for a moment, considering.

“Do you need anything else, princess?” he asks finally, a strain to his voice that he tries to hide, but you still hear it. He can’t fool you; you know him too well.

You shake my head and reach your arms out, a silent plead for him to join you in bed. He rarely refused his angel. Just as you rarely refused your daddy; only that he took what he wanted, even if you didn’t want it. Being with August Walker, you learn to want what he wants, when he wants it.

“I only need you, daddy. And you need rest, otherwise you’ll start bleeding for real.”

“I told you I’m fine, baby,” August huffs, growing slightly agitated, angered by his own failure, your constant questions doing nothing but reminding him of the absolute fuck-up his mission had been. “Now, do you need anything?”

“I could just use a hug,” you mumble, intimidated by the shift in his demeanour.

“Then come to daddy, angel,” he whispers in his velvety voice, climbing into bed next to you.

He makes you roll to your side, pressing his hard and hairy chest flush against your back, his arms sneaking around you to hold you protectively, warm hands resting on your cramping abdomen – the best heating pad you could ever ask for.

“I love you, daddy,” you whisper into the dark room. He doesn’t respond. You know he won’t ever say those three little words back to you, but you know how he feels for you. He shows you, each and every day.

What he does, though, is press his lips against your neck, kissing his way up to your cheek. When you turn your head, he claims your lips in a deep kiss, arms holding you tighter.

“I know you do,” he mumbles against your skin, the coarse bristles of his thick moustache leaving it red and tingling, but you love it, “Now sleep, angel.”

With a satisfied hum, you close your eyes.

August might cause you a lot of pain, – pain that you often enjoy – but he hates to see you hurting. He always makes sure to take his babygirl’s pain away.


End file.
